I call a cab in the morning. It’s going to take a while to get here. Jackson suggests we head across the street to a diner. He orders a large breakfast and coffee. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep any food down, so I take long drags on my cigarette while he eats.
We don’t say much to each other during the meal. I’m sure he has questions, but he really doesn’t need the answers. I see the cab pull up outside waiting for me.
“Hey Jackson, can I get your number in case we need to talk about anything?”
He looks for some paper, settles on the menu.
“Look Jackson…. Thanks.” I wish I had something more to say, but were strangers in a diner and I’m so tired. “I mean really.” Jackson nods acceptance, but still doesn’t speak.
I leave money on the table for Jackson’s food. It is the least I could do. He doesn’t say goodbye, just watches me go. I exit the diner, and head for the cab. I’ve got to get out of this town.

Jackson is his name. He tells me this as we pull into a hotel parking lot. I probably would object, but Im lost in my own nightmare. He gets us a room and I stagger to the bathroom like a zombie. The blood on my clothes is seeping through, sticking to me, and I can’t wait to get it off. I notice my wound as I slide my pants down. It’s not too deep, and somehow the bleeding has stopped. I fall into the shower and watch as red fills below. The hot water eventually fades forcing me to reach up and stop the shower. I lay in the tub, cold and alone. I can hear the television. They are talking about us. My mind sees the clerk.
His face will follow my line of vision for the rest of my life.
The TV stops. Jackson knocks on the door. I want to say wait, stop, don’t enter, but none of it comes out. As Jackson enters I just look up at him, pleading for any kind of warmth, any drug to wash away what the shower can’t.